


Ten Generations

by RoryMercury



Category: Girl Genius (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Origin Story, Ancestors, Gen, Origin Story, Pre-Canon, Royalty, speculative origin story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:54:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28194282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoryMercury/pseuds/RoryMercury
Summary: How did the Sturmvoraus of Sturmhalten know for certain which of Andronicus’ many, many offspring was 100% his? How did they choose, from all that he reputedly sired, none of them legitimate, to keep as his legitimate descendant?Welcome to the story my brain answered with.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	Ten Generations

_“Stop it. I don’t think I’m old Andronicus Valois. But I_ am _his direct descendant, through my mother, which is why my last name isn’t Valois. The lineage has been guarded and preserved by the Sturmvarous family for ten generations, and if you keep looking at me like that, I’ll make you sit through a recitation of the entire genealogy.”_

_-Tarvek Sturmvoraus_

_Excerpt from: Agatha H. and the Clockwork Princess_

  
  
⏳⏳⏳

Prince Andrius Sturmvoraus stiffened in attention one last time before his King, tears shining in his eyes. He did not care when they ran down his cheeks and soaked his beard, for they were tears shed for his King, his Liege, his sworn Lord.

Master Van Rijn directed the careful handling of Andronicus Valois’ ornate Sparkwork coffin onto the funeral wagon. It was festooned with wrought brass pipes and devices, the purpose of which Prince Sturmvoraus did not dare to speculate. The workings of the Gifted were not those of mere men, and to look upon them too long was to invite madness. When he was satisfied with the way the coffin was strapped down, Van Rijn nodded, then reached down, and pulled a velvet cloth, black as night, over the whole thing.

Then he turned to Prince Sturmvoraus. **_“First Knight Sturmvoraus, I trust you will not follow, as I have commanded.”_ ** The Master Artificer’s voice crackled with command and Madness.

“I will not,” Andrius replied. “The Order… the battlefield… I must see... to many things.”

 _“Good..._ Good.” Van Rijn calmed, and settled next to the hooded, shrouded figure that held the reins of the horses that would pull the wagon. Andrius had wondered who it was, but he’d dared not ask, lest it be one of the _many_ abominations of science that the Master Artificer had created. “Let us be off then.”

With a snap of the reins, the horses began to move, and soon cantered steadily away, past the ramshackle town that had sprouted like a field of mushrooms to support the fortress palace of Sturmhalten. It was not long before the wagon and it’s tragic cargo were gone, fading into the predawn mist.

Prince Andrius wiped at his face and straightened his shoulders. His King may be dead, but he still served. And the living needed seeing to.

Without a backward glance, he turned and strode across the long bridge over the lightning moat, the gates slamming ponderously shut in his wake.

  
  


⏳⏳⏳

After hours of deliberation and discussion, Andrius finally stumbled across the threshold of the series of apartments that had been given over to his family. _Well,_ he thought. _More that we will now occupy as the rulers of Sturmhalten._

The decision had been unanimous. He would still be the Head of the Order. They would still follow him. The Order of Jove would still serve their King.

Or rather, his _bloodline_.

It had taken much argument and debate; Andronicus’s youthful proclivities and enthusiastically taking up the idea that a King should also be a symbol of fertility had meant that he had left bastards _everywhere_ ; but they needed someone they could be _certain_ of and was _also_ of noble blood.

Fortunately, they had that someone.

It would have been easier if Andronicus had married, but nobody knew where Euphrosynia had vanished to, even in the wake of… _everything_ that had happened. _We thought she loved him as much as he loved her,_ Andrius thought bleakly. _Are the stories true? Are Heterodynes truly monsters with no heart?_

Furiously, Prince Andrius pushed those black thoughts away. There was no point in dwelling in the past. They had a plan. They had the means of carrying it out.

He ignored the servants and the guards who bowed or saluted him as he passed. He stalked through the stone-hewn corridors and finally came to a door, from which he could hear muffled sobbing.

“Amaria,” Andrius said, knocking at the door. “I’m coming in.” Without waiting for an answer, he opened the door.

She sprawled on the bed, weeping brokenly, bereft, mourning not only the loss of the King that they both admired and served, but also the man that she had briefly embraced as her one and only lover. Gently, Andrius sat on the bed and gathered her up in his arms.

“Sister, enough. Grief is _not_ good for the babe,” he said, even as he patted her long blonde hair. 

“I… I cannot help it, Brother! He is gone forever!” Amaria clung, and cried all the harder.

“And what purpose will weeping so serve?” Andrius demanded. “Is this how you serve your Liege after his death?” 

“My Lord Andronicus is gone!”

“His heir is _not!”_

Amaria froze. She pushed herself away from her brother far enough so she could look up at him, green eyes wide. “What are you saying?”

Andrius nodded. _Finally, she listens._ “Andronicus’ heir is _not_ gone, especially if you take care of yourself… and the babe.” He gently rested his hand on her burgeoning belly. From within, he felt a small _thump_ , and smiled. 

“Your child, Amaria. He or _she…_ will be our new Lord. The Council has decided.”

A hand rested protectively on the curve of her belly. “But… Andronicus and I were not wed.”

“That doesn’t matter. You are of noble blood, and so was he. We know for certain you did not lie with anyone before or after your time in his Majesty’s arms.” Andrius gently wiped away the tears from her eyes. “The Council has decided that your child will be acknowledged as his true heir. Rejoice, my sister, for you are now mother to our new Purpose.”

“Even… even if the child I carry might be a girl?” Amaria’s eyes were wide, her expression dazed.

“Even if. Our new purpose is to protect Andronicus’ bloodline; not install this babe as his successor, you see.” Andrius’ scowl was thunderous. “We do not believe that simply because Andronicus is gone, things will settle quickly; quite the opposite. Thus our scheme. _My_ scheme. An heir _now_ will surely be hunted by ambitious nobles who think they can fill our Lord’s boots - pah! Let them kill each other in an orgy of futility. The Order will _not_ swear to the petty fools who think they will be able to hold Europa together and take the Palace of Enlightenment as theirs. No. The Order of Jove will guard that which belongs to the Storm King, my sister.”

Andrius leaned back and watched as his sister absorbed this news, wonder slowly lightening her lovely face. Privately, Andrius admitted to himself this was the only revenge he could take, as a brother for his beloved sister. Ruined for marriage because she’d caught Andronicus’ attention with her beauty, and her falling for him to the point she may never consider another man’s attentions, what better way than to avenge her years of loneliness to come, with a new Purpose?

What better way to make up for a failure of a brother, who had failed to protect his sister?

In one swoop, he had saved them all. They would not fall prey to the pathetic, petty bickering that would rip Europa apart. The Order would do its duty, and one day, peace would come again. It might take generations… but the Sturmvoraus would ensure that Andronicus’ dream of a peaceful, united Europa would _not_ die.

The living needed seeing to, after all, and a Purpose in life, to keep moving on after a beautiful dream has died.

  
  
  
  
  
  


⏳⏳⏳

_Months later_

“Watch your step, your Highness, the moss is slippery on the flagstones.”

Princess Amaria stepped back, surprised at the sudden voice. She had been sure she was alone in the palace garden. Alarmed, she hugged her son close and glanced around - and spotted the man crouched at the row of rosebushes she had wanted to admire. “Who are you?”

“Just the gardener, your Highness,” He stood up with surprising grace. “If you don’t mind using me as a support, Princess, I can help you to that bench over there.”

Now that he was standing, Princess Amaria could see the silver-hued Sturmvoraus sigil he wore at his throat. She relaxed. “I would appreciate it, sir… ah…” She frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t know your name.”

“Roland, your Highness.” He bowed, more elegantly than any courtier. “Roland Mondarev, at your service.”

“I am glad to make your acquaintance, Sir Roland.”

“Just Roland, your Highness.” He offered her his arm. With a smile, she accepted it, and tucked her son closer.

When she had settled on the cool marble bench, she smiled down at the baby, who blinked sleepily up at them. “And this is Tarvek.”

Roland knelt. “Honoured to make his Highness’ acquaintance, your Highness.”

Prince Tarvek yawned in response, and nuzzled at his mother’s chest half-heartedly before drowsing off again.

From the terrace where he was soothing the fretting handmaidens, Prince Andrius Sturmvoraus looked at the smile that lit his sister’s beautiful face as she watched Sir Mondarev work and sighed inwardly. It wouldn’t be the first time that a Princess fell for her Knight… well, her _Smoke_ Knight, in this case.

_Ah well. At least she will not be as lonely as I had feared._

  
  
~Fin~

**Author's Note:**

> So I was writing in _Affairs of the Order_ and this butted in, and refused to go away through the whole day. __φ(･_･#
> 
> Finally I gave up, opened a new document, and started writing. An hour and 45 minutes later, this is what resulted. I wish I could write that quickly for all my other stuff, but nooooo. 
> 
> (╯°□°)╯︵ ┻━┻
> 
> And yes, I made Tarvek’s name an ancestral one. In this case, this Tarvek *is* a _Valois._


End file.
